Wednesday 14 November 2018

leap

together we leap across a stream,
that winds and sleuths and sloths;
'til breaking apart at every seam,
to accommodate for hills and troughs.

together we leap into the abyss,
for time has spent its most;
in hopes that darkness starlit bliss,
will finally play its host.

together we leap into demise,
that becks to call with every step;
and leave us with a slight surprise,
that should have taken at first we lept.

together we leap to lands afar, that should have brought me joy unknown,
but yet again you're nowhere to be seen, because this leap i take alone.

Friday 3 August 2018

that's cute

i cannot wait to get old and retire (though, i feel that the former already holds true). this will probably happen at the expense of young-me having lived a life of destitution and boredom, but let's be honest - what millenial won't?

in any case, it should be extremely satisfying to have retired at, say 55, and sit upon the amassed finances of my current self, perhaps not amounting to enough to buy a mansion or a single flying fsck to give at that point, but hopefully enough to fly around the world and visit all the sights, cultures, people, historic places, artsy-fartsy stuff that i want before settling down to retire in a peaceful, out-of-the-way apartment and live away my life playing video games and reading novels. i believe that at the point i will have spent most of my finances and will have to resort to the local library, or if i have purchased a kindle by then, maybe buy digital books en masse, which i assume might be cheap?

and, of course, the thing i will look forward to most is when everything that i am criticised of at this moment magically becomes endearing in my old age. misanthropy? aww, that cute old man who keeps to himself down the street. he's probably just lonely, poor thing. frugality? that man is so wise to live a moderate life at his age. reticence? again, wild old guy who probably has the experience of ages (ha! you wish). being a creep and boob-touching flirting with girls 40 years younger? old guy who's just being friendly and probably misses his dead wife (1. i definitely won't be married 2. schit, this only works if you're good looking. ok, maybe it won't all be cute or even acceptable).

and not having to work... man, i cannot believe how naive i was to have finished my studies and hoped to get into the work-force to change the world. change. the. world. holy crap, how was i ever that gullible. mate, you just want to have a job so you can put food on the table, then go home and pay your internet bills. seriously, your working weekends or after hours isn't going to change jack. maybe consider getting a hobby or masturbating less.

anyway, old age, come for me soon. your humble servant awaits!

Monday 2 July 2018

things i learned getting older

lactose tolerance is a finite resource - eat all the dairy before you can't.
dogs really are the best bois.
anything can be a poem. just make it free verse, like this one.
motivation is easy to find, but hard to keep.
chocolate was sent by the gods, but humans polluted it with sugar.
definitions of 'interesting' vary wildly - you may not find that particularly interesting.
finally learned an important thing about women people: i haven't.

Thursday 3 May 2018

eternal sleep

yellow bees that flit for flight,
from flowered trees of seemly sight;
though nectar comes in scarceness sweet,
for hive, for queen, for pollen'd feet.

so fly away against the sun, between and in between wild trees,
'til filled at last your honeycomb for all the buzzing, bumbling bees.

blue fish that swim seven seas,
who know a current but not a breeze;
where some in schools, or shoals, or one,
some lurk in darkness, some in the sun.

so reel away from sharks and rays, that feed for hunger, life, and love,
beseech instead the smaller fry, that seas apparent plenty of.

dusky moth, in sovereign flight,
against the darkness of twilight;
come midnight sun that oft too soon,
juxtaposed 'stead a blood-red moon.

but sown too bright, intense, too hot, to lead you spiral'd and inflamed,
the tender, lucid, blight caress, that draws from overt, kindling flame.

so there i sit, with wanton smile,
amused at how animals stray,
for when a human rests awhile,
he knows but soon must beck the fray.

but in this moment i'm content,
to sit by pond, and tree by night;
and watch the world flee from repent,
while thoughts and fancies take their flight.

but soon, this journey must anew, and sorry i could not here stay,
perhaps in sleep i will remiss, and have myself then float away.


Friday 23 February 2018

simple things

as far as stereotypes go, i've often heard that women are complex - in their machinations and ideas, their intents and thoughts - that everything that one should do is not taken as an impulse, for granted, or without attention to repercussions thereof. and of men? men are simple, doomed to do as is, and predictably so. i'm not sure how much i agree with this, but let us say it is generally true; i can testify that there are few situations where men are at least as complex as the fairer sex, if not more so.

you are awarded no points for guessing that being in love is one of those situations, and even less if you were quick to point out that it is untrue - that men love on whims, easily and as fickle as any fleeting emotion could be, to dwell upon one today, and jump to another as soon as opportunity arises (or departs, if rejection were to doom it). i say the latter because that is no true love, and we are all allowed our fleeting fancies, men and women, if only as a(n excusable) prelude to what love may utopian be.

i am a simple person, and i cannot claim to have tasted the sweet (and/or bitter) taste of love's kiss. in fact, i would deign the opposite, in that i have only known spurn and wrath, though not incitingly so; perhaps a mild rebuff at love's scornful beck, and at most, a proffered attempt at obsequiousness in courting such loves. nay, i wouldn't claim to know love, but i can see enough in others to recognise what (i hope) it should be. herein, i include my godson and -daughter, wahhaj and maryam, as a frame of reference, if only for myself.

but, i have felt, true to the words of the expression, 'makan tak kenyang, tidur tak lena, mandi tak basah' (translated: to not fill from eating, not peacefully rest from sleep, not be wet from bathing) - well, at least the first two, as i would not claim to have bent the laws of physics for anything, though attempted love might come close. it is only through familiarity with such a hideous thing that i have learnt to eat and sleep (and bathe?) through remembrances - and that has been a godsend. a man in love cannot be simple, i conclude, but a man who is simply in love is either blessed, or knows little of what it is to love (and in that ignorance, he is also in bliss and bless).

as far as stereotypes go (with regards to being in love, for either gender, though i write in the feminine), there is her face engraved upon my eyelids to haunt me in my sleep. there is here fragrance, that whiffs from heavenly graces. there is her laugh and jaunt, and onomatopoeia in the creaks of the furniture settling in; that keep me awake and aware that she is a million miles away.

as far as stereotypes go, every loving couple is one that could have been her and i, but are instead her and another - old and young, passionate and platonic, overt and implied. every smile is hers, paltry in comparison, but sufficient as a reminder. every kind gesture could have been, but is never as good as, if it were by her hand.

as far as stereotypes go, i would have nothing else, except everything. including everything. only everything. and even that would only be as good because it already has her. but selfishness is the bane of happiness, because how could one want for something knowing that it degrades in one's presence? like a flower picked, or a fruit pared, or clothing thoroughly worn. rather, one might hope it is (beyond his sight and knowledge) deflowered by another, and in the end made life just that much happier for others, though not at the expense of oneself? i wonder if that is even possible.

i can only imagine how much more fitful it must be to have a woman in love, as i know that i have never been acquainted with such things - surely it must be horrendous and revolting.